


In Due Time

by Measured



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Community: cottoncandy_bingo, F/M, Fluff, Meeting the Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 13:39:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2027106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/pseuds/Measured
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scout had been going on for months about how he was bringing this girl over, and not just any girl, the one who had dominated so much of his calls home for over six years. And now, all she could think was that she really figured she'd be taller.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Due Time

**Author's Note:**

> cottoncandy_bingo: wildcard [66. Commitment]. A while back an anon asked for Scout/Miss Pauling wedding. This is about halfway there.
> 
> Thanks to Multiversecafe for the beta.

She didn't recognize her son when he'd come back from the war.

For many women, their sons came back with missing limbs and missing smiles. They came back as haunted husks of men, more shadowed and broken, until the smiling, laughing boys they once were could only be faint memories never to be repeated. Hers came back gentle and tamed. He would've once have slunk down, pushed his chair back, yelled at his brothers, attempted to punch one, and then gotten into a scuffle in mere seconds. Now he pulled back the chair, and ushered a woman to sit. 

He'd given her so much trouble through the years. From trying to fly, to getting kicked out of more schools than she could count. He was a born fighter, and oh did he worry her. He was born a sickly runt and stayed that way for years, forcing himself through by sheer will. He yelled louder, and fought harder because everyone was twice his size.

And he never let anything get him down. Not broken bones, more expelling, or losing the scholarship which could've gotten him in some college as a track team star.

She set out tea before the girl she'd heard so much about, but never seen. The teacups had little teal hummingbirds on them, and were a bit chipped, though the best she had. She'd never had it in her to replace that mismatched wedding china that had been passed down through her husband's family.

Scout had been going on for months about how he was bringing this girl over, and not just any girl, the one who had dominated so much of his calls home for over six years. And now, all she could think was that she really figured she'd be taller. Her dark hair was pulled back into a bun that rested against her neck. If she were to sum the girl up in one word, it would be professional. She sat straight, with no trace of wrinkles in her purple blouse, no wayward lint or stains. Only her crooked glasses, and the wisps escaping out of her bun showed the hint of something else, something Scout must have brought out of her. Something she guessed, for he'd sit close to her, with the loopiest smile, and sweet talk her like no one else was in the room. Something softened in her manner when he was around. The professionalism dropped, just a little as her shoulders relaxed. 

Now this, this she could buy. But his clothes that neat, and not even the familiar cowlick in his hair, that made her suspicious. A thought crossed her mind, and she pulled out her lighter.

"Need a light, bunny?"

She held a lighter under his chin and flicked it on. He drew back. No paper mask crinkled black from the flames.

Scout drew back in shock, nearly toppling over in his chair. "Jeez, ma, you know I don't smoke," he said.

"Just makin' sure," she said. She lit her own cigarette, and smiled benevolently at the newcomer. "You can never be too careful with spies about."

"You-"

"I've run into a few of your coworkers. Some of them are quite the tricksters," she said.

She supposed Spy dressing up as her son and showing her another woman was too much of a prank, even for him.

Scout was agape. He exchanged a worried glance with the woman. 

"What? They had some kind of papers to bring. Well, I haven't seen that many. Don't worry! I'm not a snitch. I ain't told a single soul."

"Of course you ain't a snitch, ma! _Nobody_ born in Southie is."

The woman-she still hadn't been introduced-dabbed at the corner of her lips with a napkin. "Just official things?"

"Payment stubs sent early. I had an emergency," she said. "I didn't even ask, he just showed up. Poof, out of the blue. More tea?"

"No, thank you," the woman said.

Scout inched his chair closer. He'd already lost track of the conversation, so caught up in this new girl he'd brought to show off.

"I didn't get your name," she said.

"Shit, I forgot to-Ma, this is _Miss Pauling._ "

He said her name gently, like just enunciating it made him happy. He lost track of what he was saying, the full introduction as he was caught up in her again. She had a feeling this happened a lot.

"-we work together," she said.

"-and more-" Scout cut in.

She inclined her head, softening somewhat. A huge grin spread over his face as he gazed at her. She wasn't a fling, that was for sure. She had a feeling that this girl wasn't even an infatuation. No, he wouldn't clean up his act for just any pretty thing working behind the desk. He'd gone and worked himself in, just like he had with running.

Just like she'd always hoped he would with school one day. But those were old regrets, best left to rest. He was never going to be a scholar, that was for sure. He'd found his way to a better life outside of being one of the boys. Sometimes she wondered if this job was really any better. Anything that made him keep that many secrets had to be shady.

She stirred her tea with a slight frown. 

"Scout, honey, can you be a dear, and go get some milk? I was goin' to make some puddin', but the milk had gone sour."

She pulled out a wad of cash stashed away in her cleavage, and handed it to him.

"I'll be back in a flash, a literal flash, like the wind-"

"Sure you will, space boy. Pick me up some smokes as well, would ya? And some bread. I told Donnie to go get it, but he went and forgot again."

The door slammed behind Scout. She sighed. "I always tell them not to slam the door, but do they ever listen? Never," she said.

But, she'd missed the sound of his loud chatter, and even the slamming doors and things left haphazard. Everything that grated on her became dear when he wasn't around. 

"I trust the other mercenaries haven't been bothering you?" Miss Pauling said.

There was cold professionalism in her gaze. This was the kind of woman who who would kill without a second thought. She'd grown until she could tell the killers, just with a look. She'd raised eight of them, and loved even more. There always was something, like a bloodstain that couldn't be washed out.

She even recognized it in the mirror, in her own eyes.

She examined her nails. The left pinkie was chipped again. "He ain't been tellin' me secrets, if that's what you're worried about, and even if he were, I wouldn't tell a soul," she said. 

"I see," Miss Pauling said. She still seemed reserved. "And the reason why you felt the need to check for spies? Or more specifically, a certain Spy?"

"He's got an interestin' sense of humor. You can never tell with him. Always full of surprises, that one," she said.

"I know," Miss Pauling said, with quite a bit of lingering irritation.

The conversation dropped, and she wondered if the girl was awkward and shy, or just so far up in classified things that she could barely tell how she took her tea without breaching contract.

In these times, it was best to fill the space. Spy was the same, always so secretive and tight-lipped about how he spent his time. She'd learned to not take it personally. Scout, now. He'd talk her ear off about any old thing, even down to the bucket of chicken he'd had that day. Secrets didn't keep him from talking; very little did.

"Ah, but I got something to show you."

She left Miss Pauling to her thoughts, and pulled out the old photobook. The one thing she'd really put money into when they didn't have much to spare. Leather bound, frayed with time, but no less loved. Little fingerprints had been left over the years. She took them as beauty marks, more memories between her boys and her.

She hadn't moved very high up from her old apartments. They weren't in the projects, barely surviving, but she wasn't meant for mansions. A comfortable place near the ocean, that's what she'd wanted, and what Scout had bought her.

Lace curtains, a meshwork wallpaper in the kitchen, a certain dainty look that she couldn't have even dreamed of when she was raising the boys.

Not before she met Spy, at least.

She opened it up and laid it across the checkered tablecloth she'd bough new just for this visit. She opened up straight to the Halloween pictures. Year by year, Scout came out in his little bunny costume. She hadn't had a lot of money for costumes, so she'd had to recycle costumes, fix the seams and let them out a little more, even as she knew he'd long outgrown them and wanted to dress up as a superhero, he'd always smile for her and never let her down.

She'd nicknamed him her little bunny back then. Each of her boys got some special name, some term of endearment. Many of them outgrew it, pushed her away. But even as he grew older, she'd called him it out of habit. When other boys had tried to tease him, he'd beat them down, and fought for his right to still keep that one point of specialness between them.

She'd bandaged his wounds, and known that he loved her more than his pride.

Miss Pauling took up a cup of tea. She recognized the signs. He loved this girl more than his pride as well. He'd fought for her, and would continue all his life. It was in his blood, after all.

She turned the page to another one, with him in a cowboy hat smirking at the camera.

"Oh," Miss Pauling said. She held up the sleeve of photos to the dim light. She'd been trying to get her boys to change it, to no avail.

"That's–charming," Miss Pauling said. She touched over the plastic sleeve of photos, before realizing herself.

"Ahh, he was such a cute little hellion. Still is. Even when they've grown, they're still always your babies....then again, you probably don't have children."

"No, not yet," Miss Pauling said.

"Oh, you plan to?"

"Eventually, I suppose. With my job it's... complicated," Miss Pauling said. She cleared her throat. "I don't have a lot of free time."

"Let me tell you: kids never come when it's a good time. One little mistake and oops, you got a pair of twins on the way," she said. She took a sip of her tea. It'd gone lukewarm. That's what she got for dawdling.

"That's a lovely ring," Miss Pauling said. She nodded towards her fingers. She lifted it up, so the small silver ring could glimmer in the light.

"Isn't it? I've always loved this one. Sometimes I'd just put my hand out and stare at it. Even after he died."

The diamond was a small glint, surrounded by a filigree of curls like a celtic braid. They hadn't had much money back then, but he'd worked to the bone to buy it for her. And they'd managed to get married just a few months before Johnny had been born. She hadn't even shown much in the picture. Of course, the gossip mongers had talked about that. A boy born six months after she'd gotten married. They always found something to talk about. She had learned to ignore them.

She twisted it around her finger. "I never did take it off, though I've got a standing promise that one of the boys will get it for whoever they're marryin'. 'Course, not many of _my_ boys are willing to settle down. They're such a wild bunch," she said.

She pointed to the photobook sleeve. "Anyways, he got puddin' _all_ over his face and even in his hair. He wanted to go be a little spaceman, but forgot to finish the bowl first–"

She heard the door pushed open so fast that the windows rattled. She still didn't know how those windows survived her boys. The Blessed Mother must be watching over her, otherwise her house would've been in shambles ten times over.

"That was fast," she said.

"Yeah, that's what they all say," he said. He gave her a grand salute and put the bags on the table, like war trophies he'd wrested away from the enemy.

"Did you actually pay for it?" 

"Jeez, Ma! I ain't lifted anythin' in _years_ ," Scout said.

He was so proud of his job. So, so proud that he could keep them fed. He wouldn't even ask for change back. The mere fact that he didn't have to count pennies and go hungry anymore was the biggest accomplishment of his life.

" _Maaa,_ not the baby pictures!" Scout said. 

"I told you, I was going to get my revenge for all those gray hairs you gave me," she said.

He groaned. 

"Don't worry, they're adorable," Miss Pauling said. He seemed to mull this over, and finally gave a reluctant shrug. 

"If you say so."

"Dinner smells great, ma! We--We got time for that, right, Miss P?"

"We'll be cutting it close, but she's never going to forgive me if I don't at least stay for dinner," Miss Pauling said.

"Damn straight I won't," she said.

*

It didn't take long to get all her boys in one place. Hell, they could be halfway across the city, and all she'd have to do is yell "dinner time" and they'd show up. When he was younger, before he went traipsing around with his brothers, getting into fights and all sorts of trouble, she'd given Scout the job of calling his brothers. She'd even turn a blind eye as he'd puff up his lungs and yell the dirtiest curse words he knew to get their attention.

He put his arm about Miss Pauling's waist, and leaned into her. Every bit of tenseness was a challenge. "These are my brothers," he said, with just a hint of defiance in his voice.  
It always was a battle at her house.

"Be nice," she said, ruffling Johnny's blond hair that always went every which way, even when she'd tried to comb it into place.

"He's got good taste," said Michael. He was considered the most dashing of the bunch, with dark curly hair, a strong chin, and actual charm, as opposed to Scout's try-too-hard learned from a book attempts at charm. "I didn't get your name."

"I didn't give it to you," Miss Pauling said.

"Shot dooown!" Donnie slapped him on the back. He was stocky and compact, but no less strong. Ever the joker, he continued to snicker, until Johnny whacked him across the chest. They started to tussle, until Miss Pauling slapped the table with surprising force for such a tiny girl.

"Opposite sides," Miss Pauling said, with a steely seriousness.

"Excuse me?" Michael said.

"Did I _stutter?_ Both of you to opposite sides of the table. This is a no-fighting zone. Any more fights will result in strict penalization."

In a state of shock, Michael put up no flirty or dirty comments. He drew back in confusion; he wasn't used to girls treating him like his mother did.

Donnie laughed. "Gettin' your girl to defend you, Liam? Why am I not surprised? You gonna hide behind her apron?"

"Sure I'll hide behind her apron–when that's all she's wearin' and she's bent over the table. Besides, you just can't handle how awesome she is," Scout said. He relaxed, his chair scooted so close to hers as was physically possible.

Miss Pauling looked him over, with not quite as much fury as she'd given Michael. She caught Miss Pauling mouthing the word _behave_.

"I can't help myself around you," he said.

"All right, all right, you heathens. Here's dinner, now behave in front of this nice lady. At least pretend to be civilized for a little while so we don't scare her away," she said. She put the casserole on the table, with a withering glance towards all her hellion children.

"I've had to tell coworkers that jars containing urine are not appropriate at the table, neither are body parts. You'll have to work a lot harder to scare me off," Miss Pauling said.

"You picked a good one, bunny," she said.

"I know," Scout said. He'd never looked more satisfied with himself, and the boy practically perfected being smug. She ruffled his hair. "Now don't knock over your drinks actin' like lovebirds, you hear?"

"I can multitask," Scout said. He lifted his glass up, and spilled about half his water down his front.

"Sure you can," she said.

*

When the rest of her family had gone back to their own houses, she pulled Scout aside. 

"Hey, bunny. C'mere."

She kissed his forehead, leaving a mark of Ruby Apple Red on behind. "Don't forget to call," she said.

"Oh, I never forget, but sometimes the work runs long," he said. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Don't wanna wake you up."

"You've woken me up enough in my life that a few more won't hurt," she said.

"All right, if you really say so....Oh, yeah! I forgot. I got one of those...thingiemabobs in the mail." 

He twirled his finger in the air, in an attempt to jog his memory. Even his thoughts were loud and full of movement.

"Not a Diploma, but like it. The test made for all the military people shipping out. Miss Pauling encouraged me to study for it. It about killed me, 'cause Spy of all people kept helpin' me out. He said I'd definitely get it, even if he had to kill people to get it done. I know you wanted better for me, but I think college would really kill me...but, I did it, ma. I finally graduated," he said.

She smiled, warm spreading through her chest. Her one worry, the one thing she could never fix for him in all those schools which turned him out and said he was worthless.

"Bunny, I couldn't manage to be more proud of you than I already am."

And she had to admit, she was pretty proud of Miss Pauling and Spy as well. They'd done what countless others had failed: made him finally get that diploma which had been his biggest failure for much of his life.

She took a final look at her ring, and knew it was time. She'd been so happy to receive it that day, as giddy as a schoolgirl. When she was a newlywed, she'd just lose herself in the little ring and all the promise.

And ever after he died, she'd kept it for the memories. Even if they were now tinged with a sad ending, it was so beautiful to her.

She took the ring off her finger, and held it out. "I said years ago I'd give it to whoever got married first, but Johnny's girl wanted something bigger. Anyways, she likes it; she told me as much. You're going to regret it all your life if you let a girl like that slip out of your fingers." 

"I know," Scout said. "Hell do I know. I've been turnin' it over in my mind and-"

Miss Pauling's voice interrupted them. She'd stayed at the door, waiting his arrival.

"Are you coming, Scout? We'll miss the last flight back if we don't hurry."

She stood up on tiptoe to kiss his forehead again. He'd grown so much from the little boy who'd run around in his bunny suit long after Halloween was over, just because he liked how fluffy it was.

"Good luck, slugger," she said.

"Thanks, ma–"

He rushed out the door, slamming it behind him as he went. She peered through the lace drapes, close enough to hear their conversation. The dishes could wait a little longer.

"Hey, um, Miss Pauling–"

"What is it, Scout? We don't have much time. If we wait much longer, we'll miss the flight back."

Miss Pauling turned to him and paused, something catching her gaze. "That better be the only other lipstick marks I ever find on you," she said.

"Sheesh, like I'd be kissin' anyone else when you're the best girl in the world," he said. "And, um, speakin' of—"

He reached into his pocket. "And, um, I, um, um-This!"

He took her hand and slipped the ring on in a very quick motion. He hadn't even stumbled, then, or put on the ring awkwardly. It'd fit well, like she was just meant to be in this family.

"Oh yeah, I'm supposed to be on my knees," he said.

He dropped down, and grinned up at her. "That's better. So, uh, Miss Pauling, we been goin' out a while, and I held a torch for you even more than that, and uh, all I can think is I don't want this to end. Ever." He cleared his throat, and seemed to gain some confidence. She couldn't see Miss Pauling's face, but it had to be encouraging.

"Iwannamarryyou–!" 

She considered the ring on her hand, lifting it up to the light. "Marriage isn't easy, you know," she said.

"You know what ain't easy? Dodgin' gun fire and the other team and gettin' that briefcase back. Fightin' bread monsters and zombies and robots and all that shit, and you, you cleanin' up after us and doin' all that worker stuff....now THAT ain't easy, even if we make it look so. But marriage? Hell, marriage will be a piece of friggin' cake after all that."

"I'll want to keep working," she said.

"What? Of course you will! Otherwise I won't see you at work, and it'd be awful!"

"Even after children," she said.

"–kids!" Scout said. "Oh man, I forgot about them. _Our kids_. I want enough for a whole baseball team."

And here she thought that Scout would never give her any grandchildren. He sure was proving her wrong. Miss Pauling sure was something special to make him clean up this much.

"I wanna make you happy all my life. It's somethin' I'm good at. You seen my family, my brothers, my ma....wanna make you a part of that, and uh, see you all the time and–"

He lost track of his words as she pulled him up and kissed him.

"You already make me happy," she said. "Keep it up."

"For the rest of my life?" Scout said hopefully.

"Yes, for the rest of your life. Yes," she said.

He scooped her up in his arms, bridal style, and spun her around until they were both laughing.

"–Don't crash into the walls!"

"Nah, I got this. Trust me! See, I got _this_ ," he said, holding her closer. They laughed all the way back to the car, probably woke up some of the neighbors while they were at it. 

She let go of the drapes and let them have some privacy. Her boys had gone back to their homes, and the rooms were quiet again. No shaking windows, no fights or overturned chairs. 

She heard the sound of smoke, and turned. She felt his touch before she saw him, and caught the scent of French cologne, cigarettes and roses.

"I didn't realize you'd come," she said.

"I was waiting for when you were alone," he said.

"I hope you weren't waiting too long," she said.

"Enough to see some interesting things," he said.

"Glad to see my heathen children kept you amused," she said.

"Your ring," he said. He lifted up her hand, and kissed her knuckles.

"I got a new daughter-in-law," she said. 

"He hasn't married her yet," Spy said. "There's still time for her to run away."

"Nah...he'll marry her. When he gets his eyes set on something...someone. He doesn't let go or let himself lose track. That's one marriage that will last," she said.

"With occasional help from other sources... I helped beat some sense into him when he asked it," Spy said.

"I hope that wasn't too literal," she said.

He smirked at that. "Indeed," was his only reply.

She leaned back against him. "You always smell so good."

"Speak for yourself, you smell like cinnamon. You've been cooking again."

"I save you some, just in case," she said.

She always did. More often than not, she'd end up eating it the next morning. But sometimes, sometimes her hopes would come true. He'd show up on her door with roses hidden away and secrets hidden in each kiss.

Spy reached into his pocket and put something into her hand, before closing it and holding it there a moment.

A trinket? He always was bringing her little things. Such a thoughtful man. Not at all the kind of guy you would guess killed people for a living and enjoyed it. But then, who was she to talk? She'd buried a few people who thought about threatening her sons and never regretted it.

Well, she regretted that the blood ruined those dresses. She'd really loved them.

She opened up her hands and let out a little gasp. 

"I've been waiting over a decade for you to let him go," he said.

She shook her head, with a soft smile for old times, and new times.

"Don't be silly, now. I just kept onto it for old time's sake. Seemed a shame just to take it off. Besides, what are you going to do, marry me?"

Spy turned her hand over and kissed her wrist. "Don't tempt me. I just might find a way."

It was much richer and elaborate than any ring she'd ever worn. She'd never seen Platinum this close before. The sides were covered with little diamonds which sparkled every which way.

"I think it's the prettiest thing you ever gave me. Well, other than Scout, that is," she said.

"Don't be silly. He's the most troublesome I ever gave you. Or perhaps I should say helped you with?"

"You could say that," she said.

Epilogue:

She held the large, black phone away from her ear as she answered. An old habit, or even a mother's intuition. Scout never did have an indoor voice; even his whispers were louder than some people's yelling.

"Hey, ma! You'll be gettin' a card in the mail soon. Apparently 'the condom broke and now she's knocked up, yay!' isn't an appropriate thing on the baby cards." 

"You just had to say it," Miss Pauling cut in over the line.

"Miss P? You're there?" Scout said excitedly.

"It's my job to monitor calls, and has been for as long as I've worked here."

"So...you heard all the things I used to say about you!" Scout said.

"Truth be told, they were the highlights of many days," Miss Pauling said.

"---Wait, that means you also heard all those embarrassin' stories ma tells about me–"

"I would've heard them eventually. Your mother would've made sure of it," Miss Pauling said.  
"Yeah, we still don't know what to do. We gotta have more than one day off to get married, though she's already started to put stuff in. She wanted to wait, but I'll be damned if any kid of mine grows up a bastard," he said.

"My next vacation day will be spent in labor," Miss Pauling said with a sigh.

"I'll help out. Actually, I didn't get a chance to tell you yet, but you're gettin' a new father, and I've got another house down there. So I'll be there some of the year. Boston's too deep in my bones to ever leave completely, but who knows, I might just bring the rest of your brothers down with me. At least some of the time," she said.

She held the phone even farther away from her ear. 

_"—WHAT?"_

"Now, bunny," she said.

There was a snorting laugh over the phone.

"You been tappin' the phones too?" Scout said.

"Naturally," the voice said.

"Geez, who else has been listenin' in?"

"Presumably everyone else when I broadcast it over the speaker system," he said.

"Geez, fuck off, Spy. And Ma, I can't believe you went off and got hitched without even tellin' me—Who is it, anyways? Some creep?"

More snorting laughter. He laughed so hard he started coughing.

"....Spy? You're datin' SPY? What the fuck, Ma–"

"Now, is that any way to speak to your father?" Spy said in his most condescending tone.

"You ain't my friggin' father—"

"...Actually, I got some things to tell you. But first, you gotta tell me more about the _baby_!" she said, interrupting them both.

"What?" Scout said. "No, seriously, what?"

"All right," Miss Pauling cut in. "The phone is now a neutral zone. Keep your troublemaking to a minimum, Spy. As for you, Scout, Either your mother or I will explain in due time. Speaking of due, it looks like the baby will be due around Christmas," Miss Pauling said.  
She didn't even question that Miss Pauling knew the details.

"I like this girl, you chose well, Scout," she said.

"Yeah, she's the best," Scout said. "You better watch out, Spy. She'll kick your ass."

He had such pride in her power, her professionalism, even her ability to kill. It warmed her heart to see this in her boy. He'd grown so much.

"---thought the one you really gotta worry about kickin' your ass is Ma. She don't take no shit, so if you're thinkin' she'll be an easy mark, you got another thing comin'," Scout said.

"Something tells me I'll enjoy that," Spy said mischievously. 

"You're about enough of a hellion to be a part of my family," she said. 

"I—what? Fuck, I think my brains are leakin' out my ears."

"You'd think someone who can make such grand comments about _aprons_ at a public dinner could take a little innunedo," Spy said.

"Behave—"

It was said in unison by both Miss Pauling and her at once. And she knew that whatever happened, Miss Pauling would protect him, keep him out of trouble. Spy, too. She could rest easy the times she couldn't be there. 

"We think alike, Miss Pauling," she said.

She'd heard all the horror stories. Mothers who couldn't let go, daughters-in-law who fought at every turn. She'd never be that sort of woman, even if it hurt to let go little by little.

"Guess you're gettin' too old to be my little bunny anymore," she said.

"Hell no I ain't," he said. "That's your name for me. Nobody else's," he said, with that same determined fierceness she'd known for so long.

"You're right. You could be eighty years old with grandchildren of your own, and you'd still be my bunny," she said.

"I'll be there by the thirteenth. I already bought the tickets, and will be movin' in, so I better go finish up my packin'. I love you all, even you troublesome phone tappers," she said.

Watching him get married wasn't so much letting go, as allowing herself to love and respect the new daughter in her life. And with a girl like Miss Pauling, that wasn't very hard at all.


End file.
